


Shame and Fortune

by staygame (sungjae)



Category: EXO (Band), K-pop
Genre: Dubious Consent, Forced Crossdressing, M/M, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-02
Updated: 2013-08-02
Packaged: 2017-12-31 16:01:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1033598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sungjae/pseuds/staygame
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He'd never stopped trying to impress Kris.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Unbetaed, written in a 24 hour blur of weird metaphors and articles about hazing and several articles about male ejaculation.

2010\. Chanyeol was an eager freshman, hair still long back then, still figuring out how to tone down his everything. It was Kris he first talked to at the EXO house. He looked handsome in his suit, member badge pin proudly to his chest. He was one of those people that everyone wanted to impress. Chanyeol was blindfolded and kidnapped and made to drink 40s until he puked down the front of his pajama shirt, forced to stay awake for days at a time, and spent a week as an upperclassman's servant—maid outfit non-optional. All in the name of brotherhood. Getting his member badge pinned to his chest by Kris (who missed the first time, stabbing Chanyeol's chest through his shirt) made it all worth it.  
  
He'd never stopped trying to impress Kris.  
  
  
  
  
Kris picks Chanyeol up from the campus police station at 3 AM. Chanyeol sits drunk and slumped over while Kris deals with the head cop, talking to him in that smooth, responsible adult voice that Kris has. Chanyeol hears something about fines and tunes them out, instead examining the small cuts on his hands from picking up glass. A larger hand covers his. "Get up, we're leaving," Kris says, rubbing his palms over his eyes. Chanyeol's wobbly when he jumps to his feet.  
  
"I can't believe you did this," Kris says as he shepherds Chanyeol out to his car. The frat house is only a ten minute walk from here but Kris must've been in a rush.  
  
"I'm sorry hyung," Chanyeol says. He means it. He thinks he's going to be sick.  
  
At the frat house, Kris helps Chanyeol up the stairs, but instead of taking a right at the top, he goes left. "Kyungsoo's asleep, don't add waking him up at 3:30 to your list of misdeeds," Kris says when Chanyeol starts to protest. "You're crashing with me." He sounds tired, and Chanyeol's stomach rolls with guilt.  
  
"Hyung-" he tries to say once Kris gets him set up with a blanket and pillow on the floor.  
  
"We'll talk about in the morning," Kris says, firmly. The presidential tone. Chanyeol is too tired to even consider not shutting up. He's halfway asleep when he thinks he hears Kris say, "You'll need to be punished."

 

 **PUNISHMENT OPTION #1** : [Chanyeol/Kris public spanking](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1033598/chapters/2060025)  
 **PUNISHMENT OPTION #2** : [Chanyeol/Kris/Tao crossdressing and stuff](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1033598/chapters/2060026)  
 **PUNISHMENT OPTION #3** : something that doesn't involve porn


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning carries on like usual, Kris not saying anything about the night before. He drags Chanyeol out for breakfast burritos and there's a certain air of distance between them, but otherwise Kris seems to be ignoring what happened last night. Everyone knows what happened, but no one even makes fun of him for it for the rest of the weekend. It's weird.

Chanyeol will have to pay a fine to the sorority house, do some school mandated community service, but Chanyeol knows that's not what Kris means when he said that Chanyeol would have to be punished. He's seen guys stripped naked and dropped off on the other side of campus to make the walk of shame home. He's antsy before the chapter meeting, but he hopes Kris will go easy on him. They're friends, after all.

Chapter is on Sunday nights. They're all outfitted in dress shirts and slacks as per the dress code. The rows of chairs are neatly aligned, a table for the council and a podium for their president fixed at the front of the room. Chanyeol slides into the seat next to Baekhyun, who gives him a thumbs up.

Kris calls the meeting to order. They go through the usual business. Fraternity fundraising, social events, community service and grade requirements. Chanyeol is sure that he's gotten out of his sentencing tonight as the hour ticks away without any mention of disciplinary actions. Then Kris says, "You are all familiar with our creed, I am correct?"

"Yes," they all say in unison. Chanyeol remembers practicing it until he was blue in the face and still messing up during Hell Week, receiving a spray of boiling water for his mistake.

"The True Gentleman," Kris says, stepping around the podium. He goes to the bookshelf behind him and picks up the ceremonial paddle. Chanyeol's blood runs cold in his veins. "One of you among us has not acted like a true gentleman."

Even without a name, all eyes in the room are focused on Chanyeol. He shifts in his seat, neck flushing. "Park Chanyeol, please come to the front of the room," Kris says.

As Chanyeol approaches, Kris dismisses the council from their seats to join the rest of the group. Chanyeol has no idea what Kris has up his sleeve, but he doesn't like the look of it. "Yes, President," Chanyeol says when he reaches the podium, giving a full 90-degree bow.

"Face the wall," Kris instructs. "Put your hands on the table."

It's a submissive position. Chanyeol's brain protests as he stands against the table, resting his hands on the pristine wood. He hears Kris approach behind him, smacking the paddle against his hand and oh, he gets it. Except Kris leans in, mouth next to his ear, and whispers, "Drop your pants."

Chanyeol jerks around with wide eyes. "What?"

"You heard me," Kris says, and yeah Chanyeol heard him but that doesn't mean he's about to strip down in front of forty other guys to get smacked across the ass. Especially not by the guy he's wanted to fuck since he slipped a business card into Chanyeol's hand.

"I can't."

"You can," Kris says. "Or I'll have someone do it for you."

Chanyeol swallows down his pride and reaches for his belt. The room feels dead silent around him, the only sound the clinking of his buckle and the rustle of his pants as he slides them past his knees. "Underwear too," Kris says. Chanyeol's hands shake as he tugs them down. He must take too much time because then Kris is pushing him down until he's bent over the table again, bare ass on display to the whole room.

"You're going to get 20 paddles," Kris explains. "You will have to recite the creed along with it. You mess up and the number resets. We'll be here all night if we have to. Understood?"

"Understood," Chanyeol says, miserably.

The first blow of the paddle lands across one of Chanyeol's cheeks. It leaves a stinging pain that reverberates across Chanyeol's skin. "The True Gentleman is the man whose conduct proceeds from good will," Chanyeol recites. "And an acute sense of propriety, and whose- fuck."

The second and third hits are stronger, strong enough to make Chanyeol's elbows shake. But that's not the worst of it. Chanyeol feels a familiar heat rushing towards the lower half of his body. He's getting hard. Getting paddled in front of his fraternity brothers while naked and Chanyeol is getting hard. It's so bad that Chanyeol could laugh, if the mortification didn't feel like a noose around his neck.

"That sounded like a mistake to me," Kris says. "Looks like we're back to one."

Chanyeol drops his head between his arms. "Whose self-control is equal to all emergencies, who does not make the poor man conscious of his poverty-" The flood of arousal is distracting. He knows that everyone can see his cock hanging erect between his legs. He hopes that Kyungsoo is averting his eyes, at least. "-the obscure man of his obscurity, or any man of his inferiority or deformity."

Kris delivers several painful smacks in succession, then leans over Chanyeol's back. "How many was that?"

Chanyeol thinks for a moment. "Five. You're at five."

"Good boy," Kris says, patting Chanyeol on the back. Chanyeol's cock jumps in appreciation, just as another blow lands against his ass, across both cheeks this time. "Now go on."

The praise seems to kick Chanyeol's brain into overdrive. He pushes past the haziness, rushing through the next few lines. "Who is himself humbled if necessity compels him to humble another; who does not flatter wealth, cringe before power, or boast of his own possessions or achievements."

They're up to ten hits. Ten more and Chanyeol can pull up his pants and go into the nearest bathroom and jerk himself off thinking about what if it was Kris's hand instead of the paddle. He wonders how the other members are reacting, if any of them have reached into their own pants or if they're laughing, mocking the way Chanyeol's cock sprung to life for their president. He can't help the weak moan that escapes with eleven. His whole body is red with embarrassment.

"Who speaks with frankness but always with sincerity and sympathy; whose deed follows his word." Twelve, thirteen, fourteen. Chanyeol whimpers. His ass is burning with pain. "Who- who thinks of the rights and feelings of others, rather than his own."

"You're so close, Chanyeol," Kris says, quiet enough for only Chanyeol to hear. He feels like he is, like he could come just from being hit. Fifteen.

"And who appears well in any company."

Sixteen. Seventeen. Kris is counting out loud now, every hit stronger than the last, the wooden paddle bruising his skin. Chanyeol feels his balls tightening and he pushes against the table, grinding his erection into it. He's been reduced to this. It's the most humiliating thing that's ever happened to him.

"A man with whom honor is sacred and virtue safe," Chanyeol finishes, choking out the last word with a strangled cry as he comes on the table.

"Twenty," Kris says. Chanyeol's arms give and he collapses against the table. Louder, to the rest of the group, he dismisses everyone. Chanyeol hears the shuffling of feet exiting the room, everyone still quiet, then the door shuts.

"You did good," Kris tells him, smoothing a cool hand down Chanyeol's warm backside. Chanyeol leans into the touch. "Don't make me do this again."


	3. Chapter 3

Chanyeol wakes up with a dry mouth and some kind of satin fabric covering his face. "Get up," he hears Kris say. Chanyeol pulls the fabric off his face- a maid's outfit.

"No way," says Chanyeol, sitting straight up and immediately regretting that decision.

Kris comes to stand over Chanyeol's body, feet framing Chanyeol's ankles. "You'll have to pay a fine to the sorority house and do some community service, but that's not what's important here. You fucked up."

"So what? You want me to be your maid?" Chanyeol sneers. "No fucking way."

"You act like a dumb pledge who doesn't understand the code of conduct, that's fine. You're going to get treated like one then." Kris' tone isn't exactly harsh, but it's hardly as playful as Kris normally sounds. There's a hard set to his jaw. Chanyeol feels like averting his eyes from Kris', but his face is even with Kris' cock and that's not exactly what he wants to be thinking about right now.

"You want me to serve at game night? Along with the pledges? Kris, that's not fair."

"You earned this yourself. I'm not asking. I'm telling you this is how you're going to be punished," Kris says with an air of finality. Chanyeol runs a finger over the black satin of the uniform. He nods.

 

 

 

Baekhyun helps Chanyeol get ready. The same uniform he'd worn two years ago without problems fits snugly. "You need to quit eating so much," Baekhyun says, pinching Chanyeol's back before he zips the bodice up.

"Shit on me while I'm down why don't you," Chanyeol grumbles. It wasn't bad when he had long hair. His face had always leaned towards soft, all of his relatives telling him he was the spitting image of Yura. Without the hair to hide behind, Chanyeol feels clownish in his lipstick and mascara. But humiliation is the name of the game. It wouldn't be a punishment if it didn't make Chanyeol uncomfortable.

The party is sprawled out across the frathouse. Gambling is technically against the rules, but like underage drinking, it's rarely enforced. Various tables are set up in the style of a Vegas casino. The pledges—and Chanyeol—are to serve drinks to all the guests.

Lu Han lines them all up, inspecting their uniforms. This should be Chanyeol's job, he thinks, bitter. He can see where Sehun's skirt is wrinkled, but Lu Han has a soft spot for him and passes without a word.

"You know the rules, pledges," Lu Han says. Poor excuse for a commanding tone. "No backtalk, no bitching, no slacking off, no drinking, no hiding because you saw the girl you like in your math class."

Before they are dismissed, Kris steps in for a final warning. "You're all poor excuses for men," he says. Chanyeol swears he looks straight at him. "You don't deserve to be treated as such."

 

 

 

It's manageable. Chanyeol mixes rum and cokes, pours beer by the dozens, curtsies when asked, sneaks enough drinks away for him to get decently hammered before too long. Drunk guys make lewd comments about the length of his skirt, girls laugh. Better this than standing around covered in his own vomit like when he was a pledge.

He's emptied another tray of cheap beer to a poker table full of frat members, then someone calls his name. "Wait," he says, and Chanyeol spine goes rigid before he even turns to look.

"Come here," Zitao says, gesturing to his lap. Lu Han is seated at the same table and he gives Chanyeol a sharp look that says Remember, you have to do what he says. Chanyeol grits his teeth.

"You can be my good luck charm," Zitao says. He pulls Chanyeol back flush against his chest, hand coming up to cover Chanyeol's knee under the table. Fucking Zitao, who undoubtedly finds this all hilarious. He's spent a year coveting Chanyeol's position as president's favorite, after all. As if Chanyeol would give up that title to some kid who cried during Hell Week.

Chanyeol watches Zitao play, keeping his suggestions about how Zitao could win to himself. It's his own fault he sucks at poker. He's angling his head, trying to get a peek at Jonghyun's cards, when he feels a hand sliding up his thigh, slipping under the fabric of his uniform. Chanyeol catches Zitao's wrist, fingers clamped tight around the bone.

Zitao tilts his head up, pressing his lips next to Chanyeol's ear. "You wouldn't want me to tell Kris, would you?" he asks, sending an involuntary shiver down Chanyeol's spine. He swallows, shaking his head no. When Zitao's hand resumes its upwards trajectory, Chanyeol lets his grip fall.

The fabric of Chanyeol's skirt and the table cloth hide the motion of Zitao's hand when he strokes over Chanyeol's semi-erect cock. Two fingers pressed against Chanyeol's briefs, rubbing against his length. His cock twitches and Chanyeol is absolutely miserable with his body's natural reaction, his cock hardening as Zitao makes long, firm strokes from the base of his cock and up. Zitao's hand slips down lower, cupping Chanyeol's balls gently, pressing one finger even further. Chanyeol clamps his legs shut.

"I have to go get more drinks," he says, standing up fast enough to rock the table. He's lucky he has the tray to cover up his boner. He doesn't relax until he's in the kitchen, pouring a shot of whiskey to calm his nerves.

He hears footsteps behind him. "Fuck off, Zitao," he bites out.

"I'm not sure you're supposed to talk to your members like that," he says, and if the voice didn't give it away, the pale hands that frame Chanyeol's on the countertop would. Joonmyun. He's standing too close to Chanyeol for comfort.

"Sorry, won't happen again" Chanyeol says, attempting to shrug Joonmyun off.

Instead Joonmyun presses in closer, until his hips are aligned with Chanyeol's. Joonmyun must be drunk or something. There's no logical explanation for this. "You look pretty tonight," Joonmyun says.

Chanyeol wonders if there's some kind of conspiracy against him when Joonmyun drags a hand down the front of Chanyeol's bodice, stopping when he reaches the waistband of his maid's skirt. Chanyeol's cock stirs with interest again and Chanyeol makes a miserable noise, hanging his head. He's not going to push up into Joonmyun's hand, fuck he doesn't even like Joonmyun most of the time. No one does, unless they need fundraising. Joonmyun's hand wraps around the head of Chanyeol's cock through the fabric.

"Joonmyun," Kris snaps. Chanyeol's head jerks back whiplash fast. Kris has a look on his face Chanyeol has only seen a few times before, thick brows furrowed, mouth set in a thin line. Joonmyun releases Chanyeol's cock and Chanyeol sags against the counter, knees weak.

"We were just talking," Joonmyun says, but he backs off, weaving around Kris with some excuse about blackjack.

Kris wraps his hand around Chanyeol's arms, pulling him away from the counter. "You're not done yet," Kris says, guiding Chanyeol towards the staircase. It reminds him of last night and Chanyeol feels abruptly guilty again. Guilty for causing trouble, guilty for the strain in the fabric of his skirt.

"Haven't I been punished enough?" Chanyeol asks. Kris doesn't say anything else, just tightens his grip on Chanyeol's arm as if he thinks Chanyeol might stumble. They make a left at the top of the stairs again.

In Kris's bedroom, Zitao is waiting at Kris's desk, spinning a pair of handcuffs around from his finger. "What's he doing here?" Chanyeol asks, reeling backward. Before he can go anywhere, Kris's hand comes down on Chanyeol's neck, holding him in place.

"You're here to learn your lesson," Kris says. He leans in for the next sentence, mouth next to his ear like Zitao's had been earlier and Zitao is watching them, lips twisted into a sly smile that makes Chanyeol want to punch it off his face. "It's not discipline if you want it, Chanyeol."

Chanyeol's heart drops to the pit of his stomach and he does feel like he might fall now, but Kris's hand on his neck steadies him. "Go sit on the bed."

He does. Zitao is on top of him immediately, straddling his hips and pushing him back into Kris's mattress with his arms over his head. Chanyeol wants to protest when Zitao clicks the first handcuff around one of his wrists, but Kris is watching them, gauging his reaction, so Chanyeol keeps his head tilted up to the ceiling. Zitao is gentle, asking if the cuffs are too tight, smoothing a soft hand down Chanyeol's arm as he pulls away, but it's not the touch that Chanyeol wants.

"The maid outfit, that was just for show," Kris says. He approaches the bed and reaches down, trailing his fingertips over Chanyeol's shin. "I had to do it to keep the others in line. You fucked up during pledgeship, that's not something we take lightly."

Zitao pushes Chanyeol over onto his side, reaching around his back for the zipper to his dress. "But what you really need, more than to be punished, is to be disciplined," Kris says as Zitao starts to peel the bodice away from Chanyeol's body. Chanyeol shivers, suddenly cold, nipples tightening as Zitao brushes over one accidentally.

When the dress is off, Zitao pushes Chanyeol's briefs down with it, leaving him naked on the bed. Zitao steps away to strip off his own clothes down to his boxers. It's just Kris and Chanyeol for a moment. Chanyeol's cock stiffens without stimulation, from the scrutiny in Kris's gaze alone.

Then Zitao is back, resuming his position on top of Chanyeol, this time reaching for Chanyeol's cock. He jerks it slow, grip so tight it's just shy of painful but Chanyeol can't help pushing his hips into it, grinding up into Zitao's fist. He hates how smug Zitao looks and for a moment, Chanyeol thinks about the roles being reversed, of Zitao tied up and helpless and the hem of his skirt hiked up. Chanyeol's groan surprises him. Zitao gets into it, picking up speed, bending his head down to lap at Chanyeol's nipples. The head of Chanyeol's cock is red and swollen as it slides through Zitao's palm. He's close to coming already, balls tightening, and-

"Stop," Kris says. Zitao's response time is immediate—he jerks his hand back like it's on fire. Chanyeol lets out a pitiful moan, shuddering at the loss of contact.

"You know what your problem is?" Kris asks. He seems to be waiting for a response so Chanyeol nods, shutting his eyes. "You're clumsy. You don't know how to show restraint." Kris's voice is next to his ear now and Chanyeol opens his eyes again to find Kris crouching down next to his bed, scowling at Chanyeol. "You lack control."

"You'll have to learn it," Kris says and he stands, stepping away from the bed.

When Zitao's hand presses back, it's cool and wet. Chanyeol flinches away from the touch, but Zitao is insistent, holding Chanyeol's hips down with one hand while his other slides under Chanyeol's balls, rubbing lube into his skin. He reaches for the bottle and Chanyeol looks back to Kris. He's pulled up his desk chair now, sitting with his elbows on his knees. All he's missing is a clipboard for evaluation. Chanyeol's cheeks go warm.

The first push of Zitao's finger against Chanyeol's hole and Chanyeol tries to scoot away, but the hand on his hip has him trapped. The feeling is foreign. Chanyeol had tried it himself before, back when he was a teenager tying out any way to get himself off, but his own hand felt nothing like Zitao's does, thick middle finger stretching his rim. The second finger burns. The third Zitao pushes in even slower until he's knuckle deep, then Zitao bends his fingers slightly and stroke up against something in Chanyeol's ass. Something that makes him lurch up, arms straining over his head.

"Fuck," Chanyeol pants out. "Fuck, fuck."

Zitao laughs. Maybe Kris does too but now Chanyeol's back to looking at Zitao, the wicked gleam in his eye as he pulls all three fingers out only to slam them back in. There's not enough lube and it stings, unnatural, but then Zitao massages over that same spot and Chanyeol forgets to complain. He feels it in his whole body. The fullness, the thrum of arousal under his skin, every muscle pulled taut. His cock hasn't been touched in Chanyeol doesn't know how long, but it still twitches against his stomach. He pushes his hips up, trying to rub it against his own skin, desperate.

Kris's second stop makes tears prick at the corner of his eyelids. He's ashamed—of his mistake, of his heavy cock, of how he wants Zitao's fingers back, of disappointing Kris. "Are you learning, Chanyeol?" Kris asks. If he notices the tears, he doesn't mention it and even with his mind fuzzy Chanyeol feels grateful.

"Yes, yes hyung. Hyung, please," he says, slurring his words. Zitao's hand, resting on his thigh above his knee, tightens.

"He's not your hyung tonight," Zitao says.

Chanyeol tilts his head up as much as he can, shooting Zitao a glare. He may have been wearing a skirt for the last four hours but he's not saying it, won't say it. Then Zitao plunges four fingers into him without any warning and Chanyeol cries out. "Fuck, okay, okay, okay," Chanyeol babbles as Zitao finally reaches for his cock, rubbing a thumb over the head. "Kris, oppa, I don't care. Just let me come, please."

Kris stands and Chanyeol thinks he's finally done enough, that he's done everything right. Instead Kris leans against the foot of the bed and pulls Zitao in, kissing him fully on the mouth. The movement of Zitao's fingers slows now that he's distracted but the weight of them in Chanyeol's body alone is a taunt as Chanyeol watches their tongues twine and Kris fist his hands into the lapels of Zitao's jacket.

It's not fair. Chanyeol could shout but he's too busy trembling, wrists tugging against their cuffs. It's all backwards. It should be him kissing Kris, not laying here with his whole body exposed and some sophomore's hand up his ass. He makes an involuntary whining noise in the back of his throat. Kris pulls away from Zitao. "Look at him," Kris says, making it clear that he's not talking to Chanyeol. "Look how desperate he is."

"Do you think he's learned?" Zitao asks.

Kris tilts his head, eyes raking over Chanyeol's frame. "I don't know. Let's see how much longer he can hold off."

Zitao draws his hand back until his finger slip free of Chanyeol's hole. Then he slips out of his boxers, taking the condom that Kris offers him. "I'll be gentle," Zitao says as he rubs more lube over Chanyeol's skin. Chanyeol wants to say that he doesn't need Zitao's pity but he does need Zitao right now, so he bites his tongue. Maybe he is learning after all.

As thick as four of Zitao's fingers were, his cock is still a stretch. Chanyeol moans as Zitao sinks in, slow enough for Chanyeol to feel every inch. The first few thrusts are shallow, until Chanyeol's body relaxes. He pulls back until just the head of his cock rests inside of Chanyeol. He's waiting and Chanyeol knows without asking what he's waiting for. Chanyeol swallows down his anger. "Zitao, please," he says, and Zitao slams his dick inside of him. He pushes Chanyeol's legs back as far as they will go, driving his cock into Chanyeol with brute. All Chanyeol can do is whimper, cock neglected and aching.

Zitao slows down with a squeaky groan, the last stuttering thrusts of his hips pushing his cock up against Chanyeol's prostate. All it would take would be a few strokes of Chanyeol's dick to make him come but Zitao doesn't seem interested.

"Please," Chanyeol begs, letting his eyes slip shut. "Please, just touch me." His desperation clouds his brain and he misses the rustle of another belt, misses Kris drop his pants, misses everything until he hears another condom packet being torn and he looks up.

Zitao is rolling a condom down onto Kris's erection. He hadn't noticed Kris had been hard the whole time either, too focused on his own arousal. Chanyeol feels the shift in the mood, his relief palpable. This is it. The final lesson.

Kris's cock is even thicker than Zitao's. Kris grips Chanyeol's legs for leverage and Chanyeol feels like he's being split in two, pulled apart right at his middle. He makes a noise, pained, and Kris leans down to cover it with his mouth. They kiss sloppily, the remains of Chanyeol's lipstick smearing across his chin. Kris's tongue can't soothe the ache of his cock pushing into Chanyeol's hole, but it can distract him. "Hyung," Chanyeol half-mumbles half-moans into Kris's mouth, and maybe he's been a good boy after all because Kris doesn't correct him.

Kris fucks him slower, dragging his cock in and out of Chanyeol, so intense that Chanyeol has to shut his eyes again to deal with it. A wet string of saliva connects their mouths when Kris jerks his head back. "What have you learned?" Kris asks.

"Control myself," Chanyeol says. Kris's hand wraps around his cock and Chanyeol immediately arches up into it. Kris's hand is so big it almost covers Chanyeol's cock entirely. "Don't fuck up, don't break shit at the sorority house, don't wake you up at 3 AM."

"Do what you tell me to," Chanyeol manages to choke out before he's coming all over his stomach and Kris's hand. He fucks up into Kris's fist until his dick is nearly worn raw, until his muscles finally relax.

Kris pulls out before he finishes, tying off the condom and then both he and Zitao are standing over Chanyeol, jerking off over his body. Zitao comes first, semen splattering down against Chanyeol's spent cock. Kris comes on Chanyeol's chest, streaking across his neck and chin.

Chanyeol is still hazy as Zitao opens the handcuffs, giving Chanyeol's wrists a quick rub before pulling away. Kris picks up his clothes, puts himself back together like nothing just happened. Chanyeol lays there silently until Kris throws a rag at him. "Clean yourself up and let's go get some food," he says. "You can borrow some basketball shorts from me."

Kris smiles at him, the first time tonight. The knot in Chanyeol's chest loosens.


End file.
